


To be by Your Side

by HapSky



Series: At Home in the Mountains' World [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mountains, Nature, Self-Discovery, Shapeshifting, adventurecats, stray cat Shiro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-28
Updated: 2017-04-17
Packaged: 2018-10-12 05:41:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10483326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HapSky/pseuds/HapSky
Summary: Lance travels the world to find himself, and finds his world in a nameless stray cat he can't leave behind...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired yet again by a [picture](https://twitter.com/studio_mugen/status/837320900399751169) from [@studio_mugen](https://twitter.com/studio_mugen)

It's been raining all day. Little puddles scatter the beaten path. The grass is dotted with water droplets. The field flowers bow down their heads. Earthy crumbs turn into mud. The sky is grey, heavy with low clouds. I can hear a streamlet ripple it's way down the hill. The cold splattering on me from above and creeping into my bones from beneath is soothing. It hushes the burning ache. My fur is finally getting clean. The air smells like wet green and brown, the scent of rain is cleansing it caringly.

I purr, content with myself and the world surrounding me. I'm at peace, if I concentrate on the tiny spider hastily scuttling around in search of shelter. I feel all burden fall from me, when I see a water drop falling down from a wildflower, splashes onto the ground and disappears. The rainfall's steady patter gives my heart a rhythm to adjust to. My mind trickles away like the endless water, disperses into countless niches.

 

Until deafening trampling arises. Not only spiders hurry to somewhere dry and warm it seems. The boy runs towards me. But he passes by. A gush of mud water sloshes into my face, when he stomps into the puddle in front of my nose. I'm too lazy to stop purring, though. I'm already dirty and wet all over, it doesn't matter. I'm comfortable like this. Until the boy halts in his track, turns around sharply and picks me up without any kind of warning. I squeak in surprise. The boy just keeps running.

We skitter down the mountain, slither down the path, the boy holds me close to his chest. The world around us blurs, I can't make out the meadows, the rocks and cliffs. I can't move, his tight embrace hurts. I feel bruises and cuts, my grazed paws. The freezing cold in my metal leg shoots pain up my nerves. I can't breath properly. I shiver.

“Almost there!” the boy shouts. His voice vibrates in his body. His warm body. I can't remember feeling anything radiating such pleasant warmth. It's bumpy, I get tossed around, we both do. But we reach the nearby chalet in one piece, drenched in rain's water and earth's dirt, out of breath. I’m still  purring, totally forgot I kept doing that.

 

“Oh boy! Nasty weather you brought with you!” an elderly man behind the wooden counter laughs amused.

“Sorry 'bout that” the boy answers with a chuckle. “I'd called, a bed for one night. Name's Lance,” the boy tells the innkeeper. The old man checks his list and nods.

“Beds are up the stairs and to the right. Showers are downstairs and to the... Is that a cat hidden in your jacket?” he stares at me, baffled. I blink at him a few times.

“Found her on my way here. Poor thing just laid there. Hope she's doing okay,” the boy named Lance scratches my head, balancing me on one arm. He jogs in the direction the man said the bedrooms would be.

“I'll be right back!” he calls out to him. He chooses a bottom bunk bed, puts me down and wastes no time with wrapping me into blankets. A pat on my head and he's gone. The blankets are dusty and itchy. I sneeze. They smell like many different people have been using them over the time. They are very old. The wooden bunk beds are old as well. The mattress is new though, and a bit too hard. I curl myself into the bed and finally allow sleep to come.

 

I wake up to a hand jolting my shoulder. I yawn, peek out from under the blankets. Lance gapes at me in horrified shock.

“Where's my cat?” he asks.

“I'm here?” I answer, still drowsy.

“You're my cat? The one I found in that downpour?” I'm a bit irritated that he is calling me _his_ cat, but I can't find it in me to complain.

“Yes?” I sit up and yawn again.

“You don't look like it,” Lance mentions, his brows furrowed in confusion. I look down at my paws, paws that are now hands, one the metal prosthesis. Legs are arms. Fur is skin. I'm bigger now.

“Yes,” I mumble in agreement. I don't look like a cat.

“And you're not a _she_ ,” Lance apologizes. “What happened to you?” he slumps down on the bed, exhausted but also curious. I gaze back at my paws-now-hands and feel sad. I can't answer him.

“I don't know,” I shake my head. Lance hums, then smiles at me.

“What's your name? I'm Lance,” but I only shake my head again.

“I don't remember... can't remember anything, I'm sorry. Maybe I don't have a name.” His smile disappears at that, he seems grumpy.

“Everyone has a name,” he tells me, pouting. We sit in silence for a while, the rain rages on outside. But we are safe in here. It's a cosy chalet, filled with the atmosphere of a good mood, content and humble people feeling at home in this place, in the middle of foreign wilderness.

“Shiro,” Lance declares with a nod. “Cause _shiro_ means _white_ in a language spoken far away, and you've got a flick of white hair,” he explains and ruffles through my apparently white streak. I try to purr, I like being petted, but humans seem to not be able to purr.

 

I don't understand why I have the ability to switch from cat to human and the other way around, but it proofs to be helpful.

“I asked the old man if I could reach a vet, but the only one he knew lives in the valley and wouldn't come up here, so I would've had to take you down. But with you being like this even I can treat your wounds,” Lance says with a happy smile. Now he bandages my hands, cleans the cuts. He smears some medicine on the swelling bruises. He knows what he's doing. I wonder if he’s had to tend to wounds often.

“Thank you,” I say with a small voice. I don't know where all these injuries come from.

“No problem, really. Wouldn't have picked you up if I hadn't wanted to take care of you,” he grins at me, “I'll just accept the shape shifting part without questioning it and everything's fine, right?”

We go to bed earlier than any other traveller. I cuddle into the sheets next to him as a cat. Lance reads something on his phone, the white light illuminating his face.

“Looks like one can lose their memory cause of great shock and trauma,” Lance rakes his fingers through my fur. I feel bad for not being clean and fluffy. My fur could be very fluffy, if it wouldn't be housing earth crumbs and leafs. Lance sighs and tosses his phone aside.

“You know,” he whispers, “If you don't know who you are and why and such...” he trails off. Then he huffs. “No. Scratch that. Actually, I'm on a self-discovery trip right now, or something similar... So, like, we both kinda are in the same boat? I mean, do you want to join me in this adventure?” he turns over and smiles.

He looks right into my eyes, open-hearted and sincere, he doesn't break the contact. I know I can't remember, but I have the feeling that no one has ever looked at me like this before. His eyes are a grey blue, like morning sky and light drizzle. Rain still splatters on the roof, I hear the wind howling outside. I nestle up to Lance, letting his warmth lull me to sleep.

 

“Easy there, boy!” the inn keeper laughs at Lance, who shoves sandwich after sandwich into his mouth.

“Forgot to eat dinner yesterday, 'm hungry,” Lance responds between two bites. There is no cat food, but the old man has prepared a variety of bacon for me. He also gives Lance an aged brush for my fur as a farewell gift.

The rain from last night has finally stopped, revealing a new horizon. I sit on Lance's shoulder when we head out. I can see elegantly curved hills, rough stones forming high cliffs. The lonely flowers I saw yesterday freckle the meadow with colours, dew sparkles on their petals. Mist weaves it's way around trees and forests, clouds hide far away peaks. The air tastes fresh on my tongue and morning's cold sweeps through my fur. When I glance down to Lance, I see an excited smile tugging on his lips.


	2. Chapter 2

People are talking about us. But that's what people like to do, isn't it? Shall they talk. I purr contently, perched on Lance's lap.

“Now would you look at that! Too cute, aren't they?” someone whispers. I hear photos being taken, the tell-tale clicking of cameras and phones. I don't bother to open my eyes. We had a delicious meal, Lance and I, after a long day of hiking. The rays of the evening sun are warm on my fur. My washed and combed fur. Lance is thorough when it comes to hygiene and looks in general. He takes good care of me, and then, when he seeks a place to wind down and savour the blessing of a moment of quiet and breathing, I do my best to take care of him. Like right now.

Lance has dozed off, and I’m keeping him company, my purring his lullaby. Other wanderers sometimes wonder though, how he can be so relaxed in a foreign surrounding, he just somehow manages to keep snoozing. It's a nice balcony, with small wooden tables and comfortable chairs. A stunning view of valleys so deep, a twining river down below, and dark green trees merging into endless forest. Mountains and peaks, aflame in the sunset's blaze.

This place in the middle of it all, it has an air of brave cosiness to it. Once again, a chalet that keeps it's promise of a traveller's home. I don't remember if all that is the world can make one's heart feel as warm as the mountains can. With a world as strong and kind as this, it doesn't surprise that Lance feels safe. I'd like to become strong and kind too. One day. So he will feel at home being with me, as I feel at home on his lap.

 

When Lance wakes, when he stands up and trots towards our bed, he hugs me close, never lets go of his hold on me, and I never stop purring in his arms. The silent but cute waiter sends us a small smile. A loose tie holds his raven hair, strands fall in his face, when he nods his greeting. Lance had bickered with him earlier today, but now he smiles back and nods as well.

Lance goes through his evening routine, and makes me go through mine, too. He combs my fur again, because I like that, and he does too. We brush teeth, when no one is around to see a cat turning human. We got a bed in one of the outbuildings, in an old rebuilt stable. A ladder leads up under it's roof, it's tiny with little space, only one bed fits there.

No one can see me up here. It's a nice change of pace, when for once I'm the one draping my arms over Lance, instead of the other way around. He is tall, and though he doesn't much look like it, he has some strength in his arms. And yet, he is so small next to me, slender and fragile. I hold him close during his sleep, warming him like he warmed me.

A starry night's light filters through the little window, it has no curtains. Crickets chirp a low melody, an owl howls from time to time. The air is full of nature's scent, green grass, fresh water. I can smell the wood the shack is made of, can smell the remains of sun's warmth caught in earth and stone. I bury my nose into Lance's hair. The mattress is cushy, the blanket a pleasant shelter, the pillow big and soft. We sleep well that night.

 

We take our leave with the promise of returning. The chalet's chef insists on giving us lunch to take along, and because his cooking is the most mouth-watering of foods, we can't deny his offer. He is a good guy, a person of positive energy and sunshine. We follow the path, I run off exploring a bit, discovering pretty stones or flowers I bring back to show Lance.

“Aren't you afraid he won't come back?” a fellow wanderer once asks. I hide in a bush, out of reach, so they won’t notice me, but close enough for me to hear.

“Nah,” Lance laughs. Laughs and looks straight at my hiding spot. He can't know I'm there, but he does. I show myself with a meow, jump into Lance's waiting arms. He puts me on his shoulder, and walks ahead, leaving the other behind, who is gaping in confused awe.

It's a small world, up here. Everyone greets everyone with a cheerful smile, strangers chat with strangers like they are old friends. Water bottles and snacks are shared, stories are told. Rumour spreads like a wildfire. Of a boy adventuring with his cat.

Lance scratches his neck in a shy manner, blushes and chuckles, when we encounter someone who already knows about us. But I sit on his shoulder like a lion, proud of this boy of mine. We get asked about my metal leg occasionally. Lance would scoop me up in his arms, would take my artificial paw in his hand and would give it a small peck. He would smile and shake his head. No one pushes the matter after that. My memories haven't come back yet. I don't mind, I don't really need them, do I. The prosthesis is there, the scars are there. It's fine the way it is.

 

Lance though is not fine. He has nightmares and panic attacks, breakdowns, flashbacks. The place we are staying at this night is by no means as homely as the other, with the cute waiter and the kind chef. I risk to be seen, but I don't understand anyway, why it's so important to hide my human side. I want to be there for Lance, when he needs someone there for him. So I once again lay next to him as human, and hug him close. I don't ask questions, what use would it be to hear the answers.

“W-why-” Lance stutters between sobs, voice heavy and broken with tears and pain.

“Wanted to embrace you...” I hum, deep and low. A soothing sound. Humming, I found out, is the human equivalent to a cat's purring. I hum soft tunes, making up the melody. By the time the sun rises, he sleeps peacefully.

 

We discover a spring the next day, cascading into small waterfalls. We went astray from the given path, hiking up high, until we found this spot. A little plateau, covered in moss, streamlets and brooks purl here and there, the spring above it all on another tiny plateau. Lance laughs with glee and splashes around in the refreshing cold. He sure is a water boy. I join him. He forgets about time and worries and nightmares, but I don't.

“Lance,” I say, and take his hand. We are both dripping wet, he shivers from the frosty air and icy water. He looks at me with a knowing glint in his blue eyes. I peck his forehead, brush his cheek. I pull him into a hug and in his arms, I shift back. Lance is now holding a wet cat, but he laughs and pecks my head too. He understands.

We turn around and go back the way we came. When hiking, turning back is never admitting defeat, or admitting being wrong. The chef had told us what a wise old man once told him. Turning back is about realising what one can reach, and what one can't, and being humble enough to distinguish between those two. It's about finding another way. Life, I think, might be one big hike in itself.

 

The waiter looks puzzled, when he finds us on his doorstep so soon again. We order the same delicious meal, we sleep in the same comfy bed. Lance's sleep is free from agony and haunting dreams. He smiles into my shoulder when he wakes. And when the sun rises again in the early morning, I sit on his shoulder and when I glance down, I can see a smile on Lance's lips, a grin even, as he asks the waiter, “Need a hand?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and the nice comments and all the kudos :D
> 
> Me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/HapSkyScribbles)  
> Me on [Tumblr](https://hapskyscribbles.tumblr.com/)  
> Feel free to follow/unfollow ^^


End file.
